Lost in Suburbia: The Big, Bad Bird of Turkey Town’

Tracy Beckerman

Wednesday

Nov 17, 2010 at 12:01 AMNov 17, 2010 at 5:13 PM

The uber-turkey was back, and he was right in my backyard. I quickly slammed the door shut before the dog could run out and get into an altercation with the turkey. Had they gotten into a tussle, I had no doubt which big mouth would emerge victorious.

For more than three months, my town had been terrorized by a wild turkey of Godzilla-like proportions. It was one nasty bird, and it would routinely march down the center of the main street, gobbling defiantly and bringing traffic to a complete halt. Not surprisingly, he started to ruffle more than a few non-turkey feathers. Bird lovers called for tolerance and respect. Bird haters called for drumsticks.

It was really no mystery why the turkey took up residence in my small hamlet. Several hundred years earlier, my community had gone by the name of “Turkey Town.” Fortunately, our forefathers soon voted to change the name to something a little less mockworthy. But apparently the wild turkey never got the memo and came back to reclaim what he thought was rightfully his.

As autumn approached, I suddenly noticed a distinct lack of turkeyness in my neighborhood and felt certain that the turkey had either flown the coop or ended up next to a side of stuffing. Traffic patterns returned to normal, and small children were once again able to play outside without fear of being chased by angry poultry. Peace reigned in Turkey Town once more.

By the time November rolled around, I was confident that the turkey had indeed made the wise decision to vacate the premises before residents realized that there was a far cheaper option for Thanksgiving dinner than what was provided by the local A&P. But then one day as I getting ready to go do my Thanksgiving shopping, the dog started barking his head off at the back door. This is not atypical behavior for Riley, and I assumed a squirrel was out back taunting him. But when I stopped at the back door to let the dog out, I saw something bigger than a squirrel, bigger than a breadbox, bigger, even than my dog.

The uber-turkey was back, and he was right in my backyard.

I quickly slammed the door shut before the dog could run out and get into an altercation with the “Big, Bad Bird of Turkey Town.” Had they gotten into a tussle, I had no doubt which big mouth would emerge victorious.

Now, it’s one thing to have a mean turkey in the street. It’s quite another to have one roost in your backyard. In the past, we’ve had to contend with woodchucks, raccoons, possums and extended family members who overstayed their welcome. I deftly handled all the unwanted visitors swiftly and safely without being injured or left out of anyone’s will. But this time I was at a loss. How does one get rid of a nasty turkey? There was simply nothing in the suburban handbook that covered this.

I was determined not to be imprisoned in my own home by a stupid bird, no matter how big or mean he was. I decided the only thing that might scare away a turkey was a bigger bird. So, grabbing my kitchen broom, I ran outside waving the broom over my head and gobbling at the top of my lungs. Unfortunately, as I hit the deck full throttle, I failed to realize it was covered with wet leaves. I skidded, slid, flew and landed with a hard thump right on my rear end. If turkeys could laugh, I’d swear he was chuckling.

Guess we know who’s the bigger turkey.

You voted and Tracy won! Tracy came in first place in America’s Top Blogger contest and will be appearing on “The Balancing Act” on Lifetime Television. Details to follow.

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